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The Great Unveiling
'Verdant Plains - ' ---- ::The Verdant Plains is the collective name given to the regions of wide, open, and generally unremarkable grasslands and prairies that cover a large majority of Fastheld's central and southern geography, such as the rolling vista of green that reaches out across this particular area. ::''They are regions of relatively low relief where the vegetation is dominated by verdant grasses and other herbaceous plants, with the occasional shrub or tree adding a touch of variety to an otherwise endless ocean of short grasses, gentle slopes, and low rises. ::''The Verdant Plains are generally indistinguishable from each other, and though overland travel across them is usually easy going, it is often difficult to get an accurate bearing on your current location, given the utter lack of any real landmarks to use as a reference point. ::''Both flora and fauna alike are bountiful in these regions of land, making them excellent prowling grounds for hunters and rangers alike. They also make for excellent horse country, or as a place to seek retreat from the rest of the world when one needs to lose themselves in nature, though offer little shelter from the elements. ::''For the most part, it seems like the plains roll away in every direction, and whatever rests beyond the horizon is fit to be discovered by exploration if one does not have a map on hand. ---- The day has been spent in activity--most of it frivolous, to the point where Naoi has likely caught on that it's stalling. Rilan and Myria cast occasional worried glances at each other, tents are cleaned, taken down, and put up again. Small grassfires manage to get started, and must be smothered. But there is nothing serious. Now that it is evening once more, they have escorted Naoi once more to a cookfire, sharing bread and--guess what? More stew. Naoi has managed an almost studious quiet during all of this, and even now seems to be peaceful and content with the delay. Perhaps it is the fresh air, the fine company, or the food.... but she almost seems happy. Her spoon taps the bottom of her bowl, stirring her stew. "So, Myria, you had questions?" Myria coughs, swabbing her bread crust along the bottom of the stew bowl to collect some of the liquid. Should Naoi notice, it's a distinctly 'now you've done it' sort of expression on Rilan's face, poised somewhere between amused and a little concerned. "Questions you are quickly answering, despite the fact that I haven't yet asked them," she says, glancing behind her at nothing in particular. Naoi smiles, dabbing her own bread into the stew, letting it soften the dough. "I see." Myria looks back, a little surprised at that. One pale brow rises curiously. "Do you now. What do you see?" "You were expecting me to speak up before now, or attempt to escape, to get back to my sisters or run to my own freedom." Naoi responds, crossing legs underneath her and setting the bowl down. "Am I right? This delay is very strange. What is it, exactly, we are all waiting for?" Myria clears her throat. "I admit that we"--she looks to Rilan to include him in the pronoun--"had our doubts. I have been impressed by your conduct, Naoi, and not unduly so." She hesitates at the question of the delay, and Rilan speaks up. "We are waiting for a messenger. We were told that the prisoner who is occupying the cell you are to be transferred to is being... dealt with, to--" A figure approaches the fire, cutting him off as he looks up. The newcomer is a woman, armed and armored but in no recognizable uniform. She looks between the three, calculating. "Excellent. I assume the initiate is ready?" It is the first time the term has been used to refer to Naoi. Naoi is certainly aware of it as well, looking to the strange woman, spoon rising to her lips. Then across to Rilan and Myria. "So, friends, the truth comes out. Initiate?" Naoi smacks her lips, setting the bowl down, apparently done. She even pushes it across to Rilan. There's a note of hesitation in Rilan's acceptance of the extra food this time, and he casts an uncertain look at Myria, who returns it. The woman, meanwhile, looks between the both of them. "You have explained nothing." It's not a question, and her brows knit in disapproval. "Very well." She looks to Naoi. "You will have to excuse them. I'm sure they've caused you no end of uncertainty since yesterday. All will be explained. If all three of you will accompany me, we will begin. There is no need to dally here any longer." "I do not blame them." Naoi says, and it a soft and gentle answer. She HAS changed. The girl-convict rises to her feet, brushing off her rear-end, prepared and ready to follow. "Excellent. I will assume they have not caused you too much discomfort, then," the woman says. Myria and Rilan rise to their feet in unison, falling into step behind Naoi, flanking her between the newcomer and themselves. The woman begins to lead the way towards the only *solid* building in the hole camp. Constructed of wood, it looks to be little more than an old dugout of sorts. Perhaps it was once a cottage, which would have once been situated on the outskirts of Aegisport before it became a more tightly-packed, densely-populated city. Now, though the rotted out parts appear to have been rebuilt, it is little more than an abandoned addition to an already shaky waystation. She steps inside, expecting Naoi to follow. If she does not, Rilan and Myria are doubtless ready to assist her. "Is there anything you have guessed? Any questions you may have? I am sure there must be a few." "I could be patient and perhaps learn quietly." Naoi responds, "I suspect that this is not completly on the level. Too many coincidences, too many delays, too many excuses. As for questions, I suppose I have a few. I will start with an easy two. What did you mean by initiate, and where are you taking me?" The ex-ordinator follows, perhaps not wishing to be pushed. Wooden on the outside, the hovel is reinforced with stone within, though wooden planks cover the floor. They thud dully beneath the feet of those entering. The woman waits for the other three to enter before lighting a lantern and shutting the door behind her. The lantern casts an oily yellow glow across the interior of the hut, revealing what resembles a dwelling. A bed stands in the corner, a chamberpot tucked tight beneath it. A chest guards the foot. In the opposite corner stands a woodstove, stocked with a small pile of firewood, though it doesn't appear to have been lighted for some time. By the look of things, somebody quite obviously lives here. An odd place to stuff four people last minute. The woman turns a wan smile on Naoi. "Ah. So we will start in the deep end. Shut your eyes please." Naoi's eyes do not close, not at first, instead she stares hard at the unknown woman. It is stare, the first sign of the steel that led to her almost assassinating the Arch-Mage. It is a long moment, but then the girl-convict allows something close to a laugh, but also a snort, and closes her eyes as commanded. "Will you blindfold me as well?" "I think a hand will do just as well," the woman replies dryly, placing hers over Naoi's closed eyes and guiding her forward. Naoi can hear the sound of Myria's and Rilan's footsteps close behind. The steps taken cannot be certain. Whatever sounds might give clues as to just where they are going are muffled by the tread of footsteps--they are soft, perhaps purposefully so. Yet after a moment, a downward motion can be perceived, and a quiet warning in the former Ordinator's ear to beware of the steps. One... two... three... If Naoi is counting, she will reach twenty-eight before the floor levels out again. Then forward... a grating sound, which echoes again once they have passed the place, and forward several more feet before the hand drops away. It is dark, save for the light of torches. How many turns--or what those turns were--is difficult to determine, only that now they stand somewhere underground. The woman has no intention of proceeding just yet. She turns towards Naoi, the movement sharp, calculated. Perfect as if she's practiced it a hundred times before. "Now you will listen to me, and you will listen very carefully, because if you don't, it *will* cost you your life. You do not yet know where you are going. By now, you have discovered it is not the prison you were bound for, and doubtless guessed a thing or two about your companions and myself. What those things are, I cannot say. "By the time we arrive at our destination, you will know more of how to pull the moons out of the sky than how to return, or how to find this place again, but if you should *ever* think it a wise plan of action to repeat what you have seen so far, and what you will see yet, to *anyone* outside those you may come to know as your comrades, you may find it very wise to think again. "You have come to a point where you will make a choice. Your opportunity is not to *be* an initiate now, but to *become* one, if you so decide. The majority of the details you are doubtless pondering will be explained at the far end of this tunnel, but know for now that while we mean you no harm, causing trouble would not be considered the brightest of plans. Have I made myself clear?" ---- '''Underground Tunnels - ' ---- ::These tunnels are low and roughly-hewn, but far from crude or temporary. Having been dug straight through the bedrock under Fastheld, the walls are of stone, the air chill and dank, with a certain musty smell to it. Little streams of moisture trickle down the walls, forming the occasional muddy pool on the floor. ::''In places, one can see where stone pillars have been put in place to prevent the ceiling from collapse--their sharply-angled corners stick out oddly from the rest, which is, for the most part, round. The floor, too, has a certain round structure to it, with only a narrow path at the center flattened out to make travel easy. It forces one to walk single file, and to watch their step for fear of tripping. ::''Torches light narrow space from either side, yellowish light flickering and dancing amongst the shadows, yet these are few and far between, and at either end the tunnel vanishes into darkness. ---- Naoi's gray eyes study the woman, listening, disoriented by her blind match but not cowering. She withholds comment until it is obvious the woman is done, thin muscles tense and twitching. She looks back to Rilan and Myria, then back ahead. "I understand. Or, I understand as much as you have let me. I will wait and see what is to come. I have learned my lesson about haste. Please, lead on." After her response, she does relax a little, hands clasping behind her back once more. Rilan and Myria are noticeably tenser down here, with the woman leading the way, and with the firm lecture that precedes the beginning of the journey. Each line of their figure is hard, edged with what is doubtless years of practice. They are lines that had slipped away during the day and the latter part of last night's journey, but that Naoi may recognize from the first dealings with Lita. Yet they do not speak, merely following along behind. "Very well, then." The woman seems satisfied by that, taking a torch from its bracket on the wall and starting down the stony corridor. To narrow to comfortably walk two at a time, she takes the lead, with first Rilan, and then Myria walking behind Naoi. "You may refer to me as Ava, for now. The issue of titles and rank will be dealt with after you have made your decision." "Of course, Ava, thank you." Naoi responds, moving in file in the place assigned to her wordlessly. Still escorted, still a prisoner, whatever has been said. Hands clasp behind her back, thin fingers interlocking. "Should I be fearful? Worried? Angry? Or... desperate?" Ava smiles faintly. "Preferably, none of those. We mean neither you nor anybody else harm, whatever it may seem. Certain precautions are simply... necessary. I would hope that one day you may come to trust us, and think of us as your friends. Perhaps even your family. I am authorized to tell you very little, but, I should say... perhaps it would not even be so far off the mark for you to be looking forward to these next events." You own a disconnected room, Underground Tunnels(#18373Rrn) "It is hard to feel any defining feelings about the unknown, Ava." Naoi reminds her, smiling. "I will try to curtail any lingering doubt, and wait and see. As of yet, you have given me little reasons to be of foul temper, and dark of heart. Though? These tunnels... they look as if they have been here for some time." "It is, I understand... but I should not think you need to have any *negative* feelings about it, if all we have guessed of you is true," Ava notes. "You are not, if you ever thought you were, here as a prisoner randomly selected from hundreds. And yes, these tunnels have been here for quite some time, to my understanding. They were a strategic maneuver, though I really know very little about their construction." Naoi nods, and though if she believes the woman is something that is distinctly left unsaid. Ava casts a glance over her shoulder at Naoi, lifting an eyebrow and raising the torch higher to banish the shadows to before and behind them. "Is there something else you wish to say?" "No, Ava, there isn't. I would just like to know my fate. Uncertainity is... a heavy burden. I would rather face what is to come, then worry over it." Naoi responds. "People do not use underground tunnels, conceal paths, and risk the crown's wrath easily. It leaves me wondering what, exactly, I have been led into. You have promised answers, and I have promised patience. Let us continue on." "That it is," Ava says quietly, resuming her forward steps and returning the torch to a more easily-sustained height. In a moment, she, Rilan, and Myria have all fallen into a silence laden with thought. Naoi silently follows, walking onwards. The company falls quiet after that, with everything that can be said--or wants to be said--having been spoken already. Several times the tunnel takes strange, twisting curves, sloping up or down in places, sometimes navigating a flight of steps. Once, they pass under a spot where rushing water can be heard, and the ceiling has been propped up with both stone pillars and plainer wooden supports. An hour passes, melting into two. The torches grow farther apart, and some are encountered that have already gone out, yet Ava seems unconcerned. Though, in places, the only wall sconces are dimly flickering stars ahead or behind, the one she holds remains a constant glow. At last, they reach the base of a long flight of stairs, and Ava stops, turning to look back. Myria and Rilan are engaged in a conversation too soft to hear easily, yet they break off at the pause. For a moment, the woman seems to have no purpose in standing there but to take an inventory, as if she thinks she might have lost one of her followers. But no, they are all there, and after a moment she turns to head up the flight of steps. Something in her bearing--some determination or pride, or perhaps even relief--suggests that this is the final flight that will be climbed. Naoi freezes, as the progression is halted, studying Ava closely. Aware of the muttered conversation behind her, but at least giving them the illusion of privacy by retaining the appearance of ignorance. Ava's expression, her bearing, that one strong source of light is apparently too interesting to look away. Gray orbs shift, studying the stairs behind her guide, and once she begans to ascend? Well, the girl-convict follows. Forty-two. Forty two grey, rough-hewn steps that lead up, growing progressively lighter. This door is smaller--almost delicate in its appearance--with an artistic semi-circle top and a brass handle that gleams in the torchlight. Without waiting, Ava removes another key from around her neck and unlocks it, stepping out into the moonlight and holding it open for her companions to follow. ---- '''Inner Ward - ' ---- ::Cradled in high, tawny stone walls the inner ward of Sun's Keep has the busy, permanent look of a small town. Solid stone buildings of one, two, and even three stories rise up from its cobblestoned yard, the barracks lining three walls and more buildings clustered near to High Sun Gate. Sturdy and decorated only by the golden color of the native stone these give way near the northern center of the yard for the dizzying, gold and jewelled glass visage of Enduring Light Cathedral. The four colours of that jewelled glass, violet, green, blue, and yellow, are echoed on the four pennants graven with sunbursts which flap from corner turrets atop the walls. ::''The safety of this place is abuzz with activity: clanking Shadowscourges singly or in trios, atop horses or walking; chainmailed novices and disciples hurrying every which way at once with some semblance of dignity to their expressions; sunburnt initiates in often dirty white tunics carrying their chorework hither and tither; and the silent gliding forms of robed and cowled Shadowbanes predominate. ::''This holy ground is the center of the Church's military might and it fairly radiates confidence and righteousness amidst the incense and horse dung that scents it. ---- Fourty-Two. Fourty-Two steps, Fourty-Two breaths. Naoi steps out into this world once more, eyes widening, her bottom lip trembling before she locks her expression down once more. Can there be doubt that she had suspected this, perhaps hoped? The expression gives away some of the surprise at coming back into this keep, something that has been locked from her for some time. "Sun's Keep...." Ava smiles a little, nodding to Naoi as she shuts and locks the door again. "Yes. Sun's Keep. Welcome back, Naoi Cloth." Stepping away from the door, she nods to Myria and Rilan, and they give Naoi a dip of the head. What is that? Good luck? Respect? Farewell? And off they go. The Keep is beautiful, resplendent in the moonlight... and yet an echo of itself. The grounds here are all but empty. This might not strike one as unusual, the hour being fairly late, but there's a sort of silence out of it that seems to stem from desertion, rather than mere absence. "Come," Ava encourages, voice oddly soft. "You are waited for." She starts to lead the way towards the Refectory. Naoi is pale, that strong shield shaken, but not shattered. She may not be as strong, but these days, one could say she is less brittle. After a moment, she remembers herself and steps quickly until she can comfortably pace the woman. Still? Her neck appears on the swivel, every stone worth a glance that speaks strongly of longing refilled. It is the expression of a woman given to her husband, after a long trip to war. Or a child, upon finding it's mother. It cannot be anything but love. ---- '''Refectory - ' ---- ::A long, low building with wide windows and dark timbers upholding the roof, the austere refectory would be gloomy but for the two oxen-roasting fireplaces that pierce a wall between dining hall and kitchen. There a crackle is nearly always to be found, along with an initiate or vassel behind a heat-shield turning a spit. ::''Long, simple wooden tables and flanking benches stripe the knotwood floor. Kept spotlessly clean and well-polished, both tables and benches show signs of centuries of wear. There is little ornament in the room save for the symbol of a sunburst on each of the four walls, high and centered, in dimly gleaming mellow gold. ---- If the look is noticed by Ava, she doesn't say anything of it, merely proceeding along paths Naoi doubtless knows well towards the Refectory and stepping inside. The Refectory, too, is empty. Almost. Fires are alight on the hearths, and the smell of food in the air. The room's sole occupant sits at the head of a long table. Not armor, but rather simple robes make up its attire--gender cannot be determined from this distance. The face is masked, and a brilliant sunburst has been embroidered on the front of those robes. Naoi looks toward the distant figure, a hitch in her stride, casually covered over with a cough. It is booming, in these empty halls. Trailing in Ava's wake, she takes every opportunity to both study the masked stranger, and the room that has changed so little, and yet, changed so much. The masked, robed person looks up as the door opens, nodding its head to Ava, looking past to Naoi. The eyes are blue, with a keen brilliance that gives no hint of age. "Welcome. It's about time you showed up." The voice betrays femininity. Ava bows. "I am sorry. There was... a delay." She steps aside and straightens. "Naoi Cloth." Those blue eyes linger on Naoi for a long moment before she gives a cursory nod. "I can see that. Leave us, please. I wish to speak to her in private." Despite the 'please', there's no note of request in the statement. Even the voice speaks of command, of discipline and icy pride. With another bow, Ava moves to leave the room. Naoi watches Ava leave, not daring to move, almost not trusting herself to take in a breath. Or perhaps she is incapable. Her gray eyes are wide, cheeks flushed now with renewed life, a twitch suggested in her right cheek as teeth grind together. Fortunatly, she has something to do with her hands, clasping the two together. It looks... a little more disciplined then nervous fidgeting. She does not quite match the masked woman's eyes. Not even the faintest twitch of lips suggests a smile from the masked woman as she nods Naoi to a seat. "Please, sit." Once again, the please is no more significant to the meaning of the sentence than a comma or a capital letter. "I have no particular intention of beating you this night. I take it you have not the slightest inkling of why you are here." "Less and less," Naoi responds softly, swallowing to force down whatever dominating emotion that is keeping her paralyzed. She moves toward the seat, eyes never leaving the only other being in the room, even as the chair scrapes back over cold stone and she drops her weight down. "Then allow me to explain it to you," the woman says, those icy eyes never leaving Naoi for an instant. "Your recent actions--namely, your attempt on the Archmage Tshepsi--have come to the attention of the Church, and sparked some interest in your case. When I first heard the news of your attack, I admit to some skepticism. The criminal, I assumed, could be nothing more than another raving fanatic, a lunatic unaware of the import of her actions. I was forced to reconsider, however, when I later learned you had attributed the attack to the Church, calling yourself a Scourge. "Tell me, you once were of this place, were you not? I discovered your name in the records of this place. Can you tell me why you called yourself a Scourge, after having once abandoned your Sisters? "I relieved you of your imprisonment to consider you for a position amongst us, but there are many questions to be answered first, those of your nature and disposition least of all. Your records were... formidable, but they alone are not enough. I must have your willing cooperation, your trust, and be able to place mine in you." "You honor me, and shame me both, mistress." Naoi responds, still staring at the floor. "You will not let me leave here if you do not trust me, and it is something not easily gained but... lost? Yes. I... well, I wanted to let the world know where it is my loyalties lay, but in truth... I did not even know myself. You have withdrawn yourself from this world, and always, my thoughts were of the people and what they no longer had. What... I no longer had." "It did not occur to you that perhaps there were easier ways to proclaim your loyalties?" Those eyes hardly even seem to blink as the woman listens. "What is this 'thing' that the people lack now, that you yourself have been deprived of, and how has it driven you to commit the act of which you are accused?" "Only what it is I claimed." Naoi responds, standing up to her full height. "You were cowards." It is spoken with some measure of conviction, with no finger pointing, with no chest-thumping. Her chin tilts back, and she finally meets the woman's gaze. "Your power helds you high, and thus, it would appear that you could not give that up. I saw what it was your Old Mistress was doing, I saw the honest care, the concern. You have changed, something fundamental and deep has shifted. And you speak as if it was easy, Mistress. I... assure you, no, it wouldn't have been. The Arch-Mage was responsible for the storm that ravaged southern Fastheld. My life for hers? I would take that bargain, that measure of peace, deprive the world of any good deeds she may do because she is an avatar of what we should all hate." "Remember to whom it is that you speak, Mistress," the woman states, watching Naoi without the faintest flicker of expression. "I am a Shadowbane, one of the sorrowfully few of us remaining. With a word, I can have you put to death. I can end the lives of those dear to you without lifting a finger myself--do not think I have not been watching. I have seen enough of your visitors to know something of who they are, and it is within my power to make them suffer until they curse the names of those who brought them into this world. Nor would I hesitate to allow you to watch every minute of it, should you betray or otherwise be in need of such punishment." There is a very long pause, broken only by the snap and crackle of the fire. "And yet I cannot deny your words. There was a time, not so very long ago, when the Church had become nearly what we have so long worked to eradicate. It was a sad time, born of desperation and poor leadership and the unquelled zealotry of many. I find your actions commendable, if... exceedingly rash. It is time now to reach out to the people, to show them what is right, to prove to them the error of the Ordinator abomination that calls itself a power of the Light. We were in a time of decline, but that time is over. It is time to rise, Mistress Cloth. Time to banish the Shadow forever, as those who rose in our wake come to the same fall. Fastheld decays in a festering pool of Shadow, and it is within the power of the few to lift it up again before it is too late. Do you understand?" Ah, but that is a spike. Naoi's withdraws, a relunctant and expressive gesture, studying the Shadowbane much like that of a smaller Wildcat eyes a more dominant one. "Yes, Mistress, I just wished to be honest. I understand very well, Shadowbane. I am at your command, should you wish such service from me." Hands curl into fist in her lap, and she stares at them with burning intensity. "Your honesty is noted, and duly appreciated. I must afford you some respect for that," the Shadowbane admits. "I merely require that you recollect your respect when you speak. I do not take kindly to being called a coward." She waves a hand dismissively--this threat has meant nothing more to her than a comment on the weather, or a passing remark on the loveliness of the moons tonight. "Tell me: Were you in my place now, what would you do?" "I am not in your place, nor do I claim to be capable of offering good advice." Naoi responds, gaze staying proper and down. "I could not even handle my own. Still..." A pause, as the ex-Ordinator takes a breath. "I would seek out the Crown, to speak, to see what it is that could be done. Where things stand. The longer you stay quiet, to refuse to acknowledge them, the more dangerous it will become for you. Second, I would continue to offer the hand of kindness to those that need it, those who are in the end, our wards. The people of this kingdom." She shifts in her seat, daring to glance at the woman, then hastily back down. "It is a contest of getting popular opinion on your side, is it not? That is part of why you are challenging the Ordinators, particularly in the southern districts, where support for the Drake is at it's strongest." The Shadowbane is silent for a long moment, one finger tapping the tabletop idly. Tap. Tap. Tap. "Yes, it is a contest. I am not yet ready to seek the Crown's aid--I fear they would condemn me on the spot, and all hope would be lost. But your insights are true and accurate." In a swift movement, she rises to her feet, clasping her hands behind her and pacing before the fireplace. It gives her a formidable height--high enough that mistaking her for a man would indeed be quite easy, save for the lithe, feminine grace with which she moves. "Our keep is nigh empty. You were not the only one to leave--far from it. We have sadly few remaining amongst our numbers. It is another sign that the people have turned their faces away from the Light." Naoi turns her gaze, watching the woman as she paces. "Aye, great Mistress..." She doesn't rise, and in fact, hardly moves at all. There is a slight hestitation before she speaks once more. "What is it that you plan to do then?" "I will do everything within my power to bring Fastheld back to the truth," the Shadowbane returns simply. "There are those who view my methods as... unusual, even harsh, but they will one day come to understand that that is not the intent. I do not mean to intimidate--only to protect. I wish to show the kindness of the Church to the people, that they may again come to see the good in it, and return to me." She shakes her head. "I believe I will start by retaking you into our ranks, if you are truly as willing as you say you are. You will be given quarters here at the Keep, and train regularly. The time spent in prison has done you no good, I am afraid, but I have no doubts that you will return to your former self soon. Given time, if you continue to prove yourself to me as you have tonight, I may even give you a command. Are you agreeable to this?" "I am your loyal hand, your loving child." Naoi responds, something perhaps from her youth, perhaps made on the spot. Her thin, wasted form is not even given the benefit of a glance. She knows that an edge has been lost, so she simply nods as her new life is laid out for her. "I will not falter. If you deem I am worthy of command, then, that is an honor to work toward but not reason for good and honest service." This time, when the cold blue eyes flick to Naoi, there's something resembling approval in them. "Excellent. Should you seek an audience with me, I am not unapproachable, and fairly easy to find in this place. I believe you have already met Rilan and Myria. They will assist you with your renewed training. You are to treat Ava as your superior. She is of a higher rank, one which I have hopes you may one day attain yourself. I will only request that you do not leave the Keep, for any reasons. Should you require something from outside, you may ask for it, but do not retrieve it yourself. The guards at Fortitude Gate will be aware of who you are, and they *do* report directly to me. Is this understood?" "Clearly. The gates are off-limit, should I require something, I need but ask." Naoi responds, rising to her feet. Perhaps a little premature, but she seems to detect a dismissal coming. "I... well, thank you, Shadowbane. My freedom, probably my life, is because of you. I hope that, if given the chance, I can return you this great gift. Until then, I will serve as well as I can." The Shadowbane makes no move to stop Naoi's rising this time, waving a hand. "I am sure that you will. Prove my conviction correct, and that will be enough. I wish you the best of luck with your training, and may the Light be with you. You may leave." "Light bless you." Naoi responds, kneeling down, fist touching the cool cut of the floor. Then she rises smoothly, turning and leaving. ---- ''Return to Season 7 (2008) Category:Logs